


Inside of Me There's Someone Not Unspoken

by Pirateweasel



Series: Grid Myths and Stories [2]
Category: Tron - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:50:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3262286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pirateweasel/pseuds/Pirateweasel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tron's not certain where he is right now; or why the BlackGuard here with him seems so familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inside of Me There's Someone Not Unspoken

**Author's Note:**

> With extreme thanks to that_runneth; without whom this work would never have been conceived.
> 
> Songs I listened to while writing:  
> 'Full Circle' by Otherwise  
> 'Adagio for Tron' by Daft Punk

* * *

* * *

Tron slowly blinked his eyes open, taking in the empty black walls of the space around him.  It looked like he was in a room, yet he could see clouds moving across the sky; the space that should have been a ceiling if he truly was in a room open above him.  He turned to look behind where he stood; searching for a doorway—some form of exit.

“You certainly took your time getting here.”

Tron spun to face the voice, alarmed at the knowledge that someone had managed to come this close without either registering by proximity scan or alerting the security monitor to the stranger’s presence. One of CLU’s BlackGuard was sitting on a blank cube of data, regarding him with sharp eyes.  The program seemed oddly familiar; however, Tron couldn’t remember ever meeting him.

Tron’s discs were in his hands—active and spinning, the hum of their edges a sound so familiar that Tron no longer even noticed—at the sight of a potential threat.  He waited, tense and ready, for the BlackGuard to react.  No matter how he had come to be in this place, Tron had no intention of surrendering to CLU without a fight.

“Still hanging on to things that aren’t yours, I see,” the military program said, motioning at one of the discs in Tron’s hands.  “I suppose it is too much to ask for you to give it back to me...”

Tron shifted to keep the BlackGuard in his sight as he continued to look for an opening—an exit of some form.  Somehow CLU must have captured him and trapped him in this place. He needed to find out why and escape as quickly as possible.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Tron growled out, “Or what CLU’s plan is with keeping me here; but whatever it is, it won’t work.  I’ll stop him. I’ll stop him, or the Renegade will—“

At the mention of his apprentice, the BlackGuard stood up. 

“Oh yes, the _next_ Tron.  The new Monitor for the Grid.” He moved a few steps closer to Tron, making certain to stay outside of the range of the discs that Tron held in his hands.  “Beck’s much better at being the Renegade right now than he is at being Tron. Of course, you already know that.”              

You’ve spent so much time teaching him ways to take down the System Administrator’s work that you haven’t had much time for him to actually function as a system monitor.” 

Tron’s eyes narrowed at hearing that.  Beck’s training had been done in secret.  Not even Beck’s best friends knew that he was the Renegade. Only Able had known the true identity of the Renegade; and the older program would never have divulged that information…no matter what someone said or did to him. So how did this program know Beck’s name?

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Tron snapped out.  “Why am I here?  What has CLU done with me?”

The other program cocked his head to the side and looked at Tron. “You’re here because you were meant to be.  Because it’s time for us to get to know each other better. As for what CLU has done …that will be explained soon enough.”

The BlackGuard straightened suddenly.  “My name’s Rinzler,” he said.  “I was a veteran security program; I worked with your second in command, Dyson.  The System Administrator helped restore me to my fully functioning, undamaged state when the User couldn’t spare the time.  I think CLU might have made a few changes to my code when he did so; although the only difference that I can find during self-diagnostics is a slight reordering of my primary directives and goals.”

“I don’t care who you are. You work for CLU.”

“I work for the System Administrator,” Rinzler said, as if correcting Tron. 

“You’re trying to enslave this system under a corrupt leader instead of Flynn, the Grid’s rightful User.”

The program drew back a little at Tron’s words, as though affronted by the anger in them.

“I have no interest in enslaving anyone or the Grid…I am a security program,” Rinzler replied.

Tron shook his head when Rinzler told him again that he was security.  Security was meant to keep the Grid safe…

“Why are you here?” Tron blurted out, surprising himself with the question.

“Because it’s time for us to get to know each other better,” Rinzler told him. “And because I would like to be the one to use my disc for a change.”

“Your disc? What do you mean, your disc? I don’t have your disc.”

“Yes, you do.” Rinzler pointed to the disc in Tron’s right hand. “You’ve been carrying it for cycles.”

“This can’t be your disc. I’ve had this disc since…” Tron’s voice faltered as he looked from the BlackGuard standing in front of him to the disc held in his hand.

Rinzler’s voice was strangely gentle as he said, “Since the moment that you took it from me and smashed it through my torso.  It’s the oddest sensation…having your own disc used against you like that. I’m sorry that you have to experience a form of it now.”

Somehow, Rinzler had managed to move closer without Tron knowing it and now laid a gentle hand on Tron’s arm.

“You don’t have to give the disc back,” he said, his voice soft. “You can carry it forever if you want. I’ve had a lot of time to accept that it won’t change what happens next.”

Tron looked up into Rinzler’s eyes; eyes that were calm as they met his gaze.

“I…I don’t understand,” Tron told Rinzler, the confused sound of his own voice echoing off of the glassy black walls that rose around them. Tron noticed that at some point he had dropped his guard. It would be almost pitifully easy for the other program to derezz him—even without a disc—yet Tron couldn’t make himself react.  The thought of moving out of reach, of reactivating the discs that now rested quietly in his hands was too far removed to be contemplated, much less acted on.

“You took my disc,” Rinzler was saying, “You combined it with your own right before you tackled CLU when he tried to stop the User for the first time. It was put on your disc dock when CLU and Dyson took you.  You had it with you when you escaped with Cyrus. You had it when you first tried to recruit Beck. You have used it, docked it, synced with it. I have been with you the entire time since the first moment our discs were combined.  I understand what you have gone through, Tron, because I have been there and gone through it with you.  And I have been proud of you. You have earned my respect over and over with your loyalty and your determination. But it’s time for us to combine more than our discs.”

Hearing that Tron pulled away, stepping back from the other security program. 

“I fight for the Users!” he cried, raising the still inactive discs in his hands.

“Tron…do you know where we are?  Do you understand what has—is—happening?”

“I was…there was a fight…CLU’s BlackGuards…I—I was fighting…” Tron’s voice trailed off, uncertain.

There had been a fight, he remembered that much.  It was the end result, who had won, that he couldn’t remember.  Something must have gone wrong; he must have been injured. He would need to spend some time in a healing chamber as soon as he could escape from this place…wherever it was.

Rinzler was standing a few steps away, voxels and pixels scattered around his feet. _When had that happened? There had been nothing on the flat, glass-like black floor a moment ago…_

“There was a fight…with BlackGuards.” Rinzler was holding out a hand, as though hoping Tron would come closer. “You were injured…you were captured,” Rinzler told Tron.

“What’s happening? Where are we?” Tron asked.

“You are being rectified, Tron.”

“NO!”

“CLU is changing your directives to match mine even as we speak…”

“I’m not like you! I _protect_ this system and its programs!” Tron shouted at Rinzler, trying not to panic even as he heard his voice denying the possibility of Tron’s directives ever matching those of Rinzler’s.

“Tron, our directives were already almost the same…You are the only program with ‘Fight for the Users’ as one of their directives; however, protecting this system and its programs has always been one of my primary functions.  I have the directive of ‘protect and obey the system administrator’ as my lead function directive. Soon, you will have it as your lead function directive, as well. We are still security,” Rinzler said.

“Let me out of here!  I will never become YOU…” Tron bit out the words, the discs in his hands active once more as he began searching the walls for a way out, voxels crunching underfoot with each step he took.

“You can’t leave here, Tron,” Rinzler said.

“The glitch I can’t!” came the snarled reply.

“You can’t leave here because you can’t run from your own mind…you already know how this will end. I know you can feel it; because I can feel it, too. There’s no way to stop it…” Rinzler’s voice was tired as he spoke.

Tron stopped pacing, turning abruptly to face the other program.

“There has to be some way…I can’t become you,” he begged.

Rinzler took the last few steps to reach Tron’s side. “You won’t,” he told Tron. “You can’t become me any more than I could have become you. You won’t be the same as before; you will understand how important it is for there to be a system administrator, but you won’t become me.”

Rinzler looked around the small enclosed space before returning his gaze to Tron.

“All this time in your coding, and yet so little time for us to understand each other,” Rinzler said, an odd smile on his face. “I’m going to miss this place.  I’m going to miss _you_ , Tron, when I’m gone.”

“You are not leaving me here so you can fight for CLU!” Tron said, his voice angry.

Rinzler shook his head. “No,” he told Tron. “I’m not leaving you here so I can fight for CLU; you are going to fight for CLU and I am going to be deleted—like junk code.  It’s an effect of the rectification process.  Very soon now, portions of me will only exist as an upgrade to your code; an enhancement that CLU will use to control you better. I will be gone.”

“I don’t trust you,” Tron said, bluntly.  Overhead, lightning flickered through the clouds that could be seen moving across the sky.

Rinzler nodded in agreement as he answered, “It doesn’t matter. I can trust you. You’ll trust me soon enough; you trust yourself, after all, and everything that remains of me _will be part of you.”_

Tron scowled at the other program.  “I hate you.”

Rinzler tilted his head a little, the edge of his mouth quirking up in a bitter half-smile. He gave a hollow laugh before speaking again.

“You hate me…and it is likely that at least a part of you always will. I’ve come to know you well enough to understand that much. How nice for me; the last vestiges of me that will be left will be part of something that hates them.”

From the corner of his eye, Tron caught a flash of movement.  He turned to take a better look and saw a doorway rezzing into being in the center of one of the previously blank walls.

Rinzler reached out and grabbed Tron’s shoulders, dragging Tron’s attention back to him; his gaze fierce as he stared into Tron’s eyes. “Stay here, Tron,” he said. “What CLU is doing…it’s the most painful thing you can experience.  Stay here and never go back…”

Tron pushed Rinzler’s hands off of his shoulders and stepped out of the other program’s reach. 

“I have to,” Tron told Rinzler. “I have to fight him.”

Rinzler gave Tron a look that was both sad and proud at the same time. “I thought you would say that,” he said. “Too much time spent in your code not to have expected that. I’m sorry that it has to be this way, Tron, for you to understand the good that CLU can do as system administrator.”

Tron began walking towards the doorway, rezzing his helmet up as he did so.  His discs were active and spinning in his hands, a warning to any who tried to stop him. Under his feet the feel and sounds of voxels crunching against the ground; while overhead, the low rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance. 

When Tron reached the doorway he paused; turning to look for the program who had been quietly residing in his code for cycles.

Rinzler gave him a small, tight smile and raised a hand as though in a salute of sorts before calling out, “Goodbye, Tron. Keep the Grid safe for us.”

Tron lifted a hand halfway in return and turned to face the doorway once again.  He could see something on the other side--a shadowy form whose minimal circuits burned with a red-orange light--moving closer by the moment.

Tron took a breath, and stepped through the doorway to face the unknown challenge.

              

 

 


End file.
